


Itching heart

by Savasta_101



Series: What's in a name? works [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Harry's just trying to cope, Sirius Black is a walking disaster zone, Sirius really doesn't want to kill Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 14:16:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20437403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savasta_101/pseuds/Savasta_101
Summary: Harry's been re-born as Lyle Evans. It's 1976, and he just wants to enjoy a Hogsmeade visit... but Sirius Black is annoyingly distracting. Disaster ensues.





	Itching heart

Sirius was beautiful (Harry notices it objectively of course). Like a Renaissance painting: alabaster skin, and molten silver eyes and dusty pink lips. Harry must be sick to be thinking this. Sirius is…is not his for the taking. And he’s not even bent, anyway. Harry’s seen him dragging girl after girl into Madam Puddifoot, and them both coming out snogged senseless.  
Sometimes, he’ll catch Harry watching and shoot him a conspiratorial look, like they’re in on some joke together.   
Maybe they are. Maybe the universe is playing a giant bloody joke on them.  
Fate laughs somewhere high above.  
And today he’s watching as Sirius emerges from the sickly-pink tea shop, and discards Marlene McKinnon like an empty chocolate wrapper.  
“Hey Lyle,” Sirius called. “escaped your slimy stalker?” Abruptly, Harry remembers how immature Sirius is – even though Sirius is his physical age, he feels dirty to have thought about him.  
“He’s called Severus.” Harry says firmly.   
“Snivellus.” mutters Sirius, but Harry shoots him a look and he shuts up.  
It’s December of their fifth year and Harry’s only wearing a shirt. The cool air puckers goosepimples into his skin, and Harry’s faintly shivering.   
“Here,” says Sirius, extending his leather jacket. Harry eyes it suspiciously.  
“No itching powder?” – “You wound me Evans.”  
“Stink pellets?” – “Why, never in my life – “  
“Belching powder?” – “Evans. Just take the damn jacket.”  
Harry reluctantly shrugs it on and practically purrs. The leather is deliciously warm and buttery-soft.  
And then he begins cursing as a million ants bite him. “Bloody – hell – ouch! Sirius you twat you said there was no itching powder.” Sirius was creased over with laughter as Harry shrugged the jacket off. His arms were livid rid underneath.  
“I’m allergic – to itching powder…” mumbles Harry, as everything goes red and then very, very hot. Harry faints.  
He comes to, to Sirius shaking him wildly, howling, “I’ve killed him.” at the sky, as a small crowd of on-lookers gaze curiously. A few throw coins at their feet. “Lovely performance dear.” calls an elderly witch.  
“Sirius,” croaks Harry. “you are the worst bloody murderer of all time. You don’t stay with the body yelling you’ve done it.”  
Sirius is practically crying with relief. “He’s alive,” he cries, and the surrounding wizards gasp with shock. “I’ve brought him back… to life!” A few knuts are thrown and hit Harry in the face.  
“Ow.” he mumbles, and Sirius is reminded of his presence.  
“Don’t worry Lyle,” he declares heroically, and scoops Harry up in his arms like he’s a damsel.  
“Onwards to Madam Pomfrey.” Sirius declares, then scoops to gather all the knuts in the snow around them.  
“Drama queen.” mutters Harry.  
“He’s delirious.” Sirius explains to onlookers.  
They trudge slowly through the snow, and Harry giggles lightly – maybe he is a little delirious – as light reflects off the snow and gives Sirius a halo.  
“Sorry Evans,” says Sirius, stepping carefully over some ice. “I didn’t mean to actually…hurt you.”  
“Then you’re not a bad person.” Harry says firmly.  
Sirius features crease in relief. “So, you forgive me?”  
“Of course, I forgive you my snookums.” says Harry evilly.  
“My teddy bear I could never hold a grudge.” Sirius winces like he’s been stabbed.  
“My cuddlemuffin – “   
“Do you want me to throw you in the snow Evans?”  
Harry wisely shuts up.  
They’re nearing the castle now, which looks like something out of a fairy-tale. Harry tells this to Sirius. He agrees it’s very magical.  
“So,” Harry says hesitantly. “would that make you the Big Bad Wolf?”  
“Why does that sound so sexual Evans? Are you propositioning me?  
“Bloody hell – no!” Sirius is laughing.  
‘Sirius Black you dirty-minded bastard!”  
Harry’s scream echoes around the corridors, and several students turn curiously to look at them. Harry buries his head in Sirius’ obnoxiously-red jumper in embarrassment.  
They enter the hospital wing.  
“What on Earth happened here.” cried Madame Pomfrey, bustling over.   
“Oh, you poor dear.” she coos to Harry. “I have a potion that will fix you up right as rain.”  
“And as for you,” her gaze moves up to Sirius, and narrows dangerously. “you can put on some hot chocolate.”  
She tucks Harry into bed, then rushes off, as Sirius tries to work out the novel concept of heating milk in Madame Pomfrey’s little break room.  
“Cast an incendio on the stove.” Sirius does so. The room sets on fire.   
Harry helps him put out the flames, choking and gasping on black smoke, and they finish just as Madame Pomfrey comes back.  
“Never in my life – truly idotic…”  
Pomfrey gives them a clear blue potion to clear their lungs and spreads a noxious green salve on Harry’s burning arms. Finished, she stares at them with a hard glint in her eyes.  
“You two are not. To move. An inch. Am I clear?”  
“Yes ma’am.”  
So, of course, as soon as she’s gone, Sirius turns to Harry and whispers, “What’s the escape plan?”  
“Bugger off, P’foot. Be a good doggy.” mumbles Harry, still a bit delirious from inhaling that much smoke.  
“Padfoot,” echoes Sirius. “why you sneaky little bugger. How on Earth do you know about that?”  
Harry mutters something about nargles and lets out a high-pitched laugh.  
“I’ll find out another time.” Sirius says.  
Two weeks later, Harry is kidnapped at night, and held hostage with one of Sirius’s socks between his teeth (it’s truly horrifying) to prevent him screaming for help. His precious supply of Treacle Tart – smuggled from the house-elves – lies just out of reach. “Tell us how you know we’re animagi, or the Treacle Tart gets it.” Sirius threatens dangerously. A single tear slips out Harry’s eye; Sirius’ face softens like he’s watching a puppy.  
“Aw – bloody hell. Don’t start crying Evans: that’s unfair.”  
Harry turns on the water works. Sirius hesitantly reaches to remove the sock and Harry bites his hand.  
Hard.  
He escapes that night, and Sirius attempts to kidnap him twice more, before giving up, because it’s starting to look a bit creepy.


End file.
